#permutation group

[knotty-et-al]

Visualization of the Rubik's cube

[threetrenchcoatsinatrenchcoat]

one path in fiction (and reality) to help a character with a problem address it is to force them to interact with an exaggerated, funhouse mirror version of themselves and let them come to their own conclusion how they don't wanna be that.

my guess is Aabria had no specific personality plan for Tabby, but that Tabby was going to funhouse mirror whatever the gang had going on. and everyone had beautiful communal motives but also like desperation to be a part of things and help everyone else, and that but squared equals the Tabby we got.

[always-a-joyful-note]

I know that Idolish7 is usually split into Fly Away, Mezzo, and Pythagoras Trio. But have you also considered the High School Duo, the Loop of Positive Energy Duo, and the Legally Can Drink But Really Shouldn't Adult Trio?

[theladyspanishes]

Ultimate Until Dawn Shipping Showdown

There have been millions of polls for favourite ships in Until Dawn already, I know, but the go-to poll format usually means that if you want to vote for a less popular ship your vote kind of gets wasted and the numbers get skewed

I am just the exact type of nerd who desperately wants to see the more detailed stat breakdown of things like this, so I had to take matters into my own hands

I put together a preferential voting poll instead

The way it works is that you order all the ships from favourite to least favourite. When the results are calculated, the ship with the least number of votes will get knocked out of the running, BUT! Instead of throwing away those votes, that person's second choice is counted instead. This keeps going until all the votes have been redistributed enough times to give an ultimate majority vote winner

The poll will be open for a week, I'll post the results then (assuming anyone actually voted)

Is this one of the nerdiest things I've done? Only publicly

VOTE HERE!

[longroadstonowhere]

@girl-in-the-library i got the word 'warn', which is kind of a harrowing one, so i'm a little envious of folks who get words like bassoon (plus i have such a hard time saying it sometimes, the sounds just get caught in my throat)

[kissclown]

when the trans woman expresses a desire to have large breasts, the transmisogynist will respond in one of two ways.

the overt transmisogynist will likely demean her as some sick pervert, basing her idea of femininity off of the body types preferred by pornography/the patriarchy/what have you. you'll see this in terfs, in open fascists, i.e. bioessentialist circles. the argument that such trans women are, in fact, perverted men, reveals this as a permutation of the 'deceptive transsexual' stereotype. ¹

in contrast, the more subtle transmisogynist will adhere to the other of the two stereotypes. A trans woman who expresses a desire for large breasts in such circles will be instead met with patronizing words by the group - reprimands to the tune of, "Oh, honey, you don't want that! Just think of the back pain!" are perhaps the most common form of this. This form of transmisogyny often stems from those coercively assigned female at birth leveraging that social role as proof of possessing a proximity to femininity that the trans woman could not possibly have. She is considered new to misogyny - if they admit she faces it at all. Such transmisogyny appears most often in supposedly 'queer' social spaces - those where the only conception of 'top surgery' is that of the transmasculine.

¹ - Serano, Whipping Girl, 24-27

[reidsmanuscript]

Seven Seconds

Summary: when Katie Jacob's gets abducted in a Mall, setting the clock for the BAU, who needs a legal favor, and it's been a year since the A.D.A. has know anything about Spencer Reid. Pairing: Spencer Reid x lawyer!reader Genre: pinning, SLOW BURN, maybe right moment?, angst bc i love angst wc: 4.6k! (i know so small comparing to part 1 bear with me) TW: cm canon typical violence, set in 05x3 "Seven seconds" (obviously lol), sexual violence, implied reader's dark past, glimpses of female rage. A/N: my idea for the serie is be taylor jenkins reid and have you question if lawyer reader exists or not (delusional bitch), english is not my first language and let's pretend it's proofread part I - part II - part III - part IV - masterlist

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Spencer sat on the park bench reading a book while playing chess with Ethan, brilliant kid for his age and good opponent, not good enough though because when he cheered “I see checkmate in 5, What do you see?” It took Spencer one glance to calculate all the movements necessary.

“I see it in 3” he answered looking at his book again, the kid turned around the board and moved the pieces

“We've missed you out here” he said, staring at the board amazed.

“Thanks. I, uh, I had to take a little break”

“How come?” His hands froze on the book for a second before closing it.

Spencer had been clean for over a year now, it was 14 months and 2 weeks ago that he had freaked out after noticing his stash of Dialud was gone along with his needle. Where could he find more? Who knew about his addiction? Where was his stash? Who the fuck is Dr. Fitzgerald? Did you report him?

His first instinct was confronting you, given that you were the only person who found out his drugs that he knew, the first days he was a complete paranoid, he jumped every time Hotch called his name, or that Gideon looked at him a little too long.

At the end of the week he was thinking where he could find more, and when that thought scared him, he called the number of the card you had left in the same pocket his drugs used to be.

“Hello this is Dr. Fitzgerald” said a calm voice, it was 10 p.m. so there was a higher chance of going to voicemail, but he got an answer and the tremor of his hands got a little worse. Was it the anxiety or the withdrawal?

“Umm hello.. this is.. Dr.. this is Spencer Reid and someon-""I've been waiting for your call Dr Reid” the other line interrupted, he froze for a second.

“I used to play with a co-worker friend of mine. He's probably the best mind I ever went up against. One day, he just decided that he didn't want to play anymore.”

Fast forward, she helped him get clean and stay clean after Gideon left, getting tested regularly, and gave him the contact of the help group of FBI addicts. He was better, he was alive.

“So you gave up, too?”

“Just the opposite. I attempted to play Through every permutation of moves on a chessboard.”

“That's an infinite number of games.”

“It's not infinite. It's just- it's exponentially large.”

“You couldn't have played through them all.”

“There's an average of 40 moves per chess game, And I'll tell you something– the more I played, The more I realized that every single match every single chess game, Is really just a simple variation on the exact same theme. You know? It's aggressive opening, Patient mid-game, inevitable checkmate, And I realized why my friend quit. He was tired of repeating the same patterns And expecting a different outcome.”

“That's because you haven't come up on Fridays or Mondays in a while” the way his eyebrows went up along his voice tone made him feel like he knew something that he didn't.

His eyebrows furrowed “What do you mean?”

“There's this great player who comes around those days, she even brings the best pastries, and her games is similar to yours, always two or three moves ahead, she always beats everyone here… i think her boyfriend called her Buzz or something like that, like the Toy Story character”

“Buzz?… i don't really remember anyone with that nickname”

“It’s probably not that one but you don't know her because she started coming like 8 months ago.. I'm sure you have a lifetime of chess strategy in your head that you're just sitting on, but when you meet her?” He made a dramatic pause “You'll have to play it.”

He glances at his watch to realize his 15 minute break is coming to an end. “I still use it. I just, uh... I apply it differently. I have to go. It's good seeing you.”

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That evening, the BAU was called in for a local case—a little girl, Katie, had been kidnapped from a busy mall. A week earlier, another girl had been taken from the same location and found dead hours later. Now, they were all racing against the clock.

Katie’s parents were desperate. As any parents would be in this situation, right? But when Hotch asked the father if either of them was having an affair—a routine question in abductions—the man took offense. Deep offense. So much so that he refused to let the FBI search their house.

Now, what kind of parent refuses to help the police find their missing child?

In a small surveillance room, Morgan and Reid sat with Garcia, who was visibly frustrated by the mall’s ancient security system. They were surrounded by screens displaying grainy footage from different angles—well, almost every angle. They had a single glimpse of Katie in one video, and then, seven seconds later, she was gone.

JJ and Prentiss were with the mother, aunt, and uncle, trying to get a read on the family dynamic. Meanwhile, Morgan and Reid had conducted a cognitive interview with Katie’s cousin. It had led nowhere.

“The family has refused permission to search the house,” Hotch announced as he stepped into the room.

“What do you mean they denied?” Morgan’s frustration was evident. “Your only child goes missing, and you refuse to collaborate?”

No one disagreed. They were all thinking the same thing.

“The cousin didn’t say much,” Reid added. “He was too distracted in the game room to notice anything.”

Hotch exhaled sharply. “I’ll speak to the detectives, see if we can get a warrant.” His tone was firm, but they all knew time wasn’t on their side.

Garcia adjusted her glasses. “Sir, I mean this in the best way possible, but it’s almost 8 p.m. I don’t think-”

“I’ll handle it,” Morgan interrupted.

All Reid and Garcia turned to him with identical looks. What do you mean you will handle it?

Hotch’s eyebrows furrowed, but after a moment, he gave a small nod and walked away. Morgan was already pulling out his phone.

“I have a contact,” he explained, dialing.

He put the phone on speaker. It rang once. Twice. On the third ring, a voice answered—sharp, direct, and all business.

“A.D.A. Woodvale.”

Reid went rigid.

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It was late in the office; most people had already gone home, including your assistant Molly. All but Austin, who was still there because he had a lead on one of your cases. You knew he was still hanging around because, over a year ago, when someone had snuck into your office to harm you, you’d become a little paranoid. You’d gotten better, but Austin insisted on keeping you company, especially since your car was in the mechanic’s.

You were reviewing a legal brief, pen in hand, skimming the margins to jot down notes when the desk phone rang. Without looking up, you hit the speaker button with the tip of the pen.

“A.D.A. Woodvale.”

There was a beat of silence before a familiar voice cut in—smooth, direct, urgent.

Morgan called your name “Hey. We need a warrant. Fast.” You blinked, setting the pen down.

Reid and Garcia exchanged glances as Morgan jumped in without hesitation.

“Katie Jacobs. Eight years old. Abducted from a mall earlier tonight,” Morgan started, all business. “Another girl was taken from the same place a week ago—she was found dead hours later. We’re working against the clock.”

You frowned, swirling the pen, going through the multiple scenarios. You had heard about last week’s case, and how slow the police had moved back then.

“We’ve got mall surveillance footage,” Morgan pressed. “At first, we thought she just vanished, but Garcia finally pulled something from one of the side corridors. Katie wasn’t taken by force—she was walking calmly with someone.”

Your fingers tightened slightly around her pen. “Someone she knows.”

“Exactly,” Morgan confirmed. “That narrows it down to family or close acquaintances.” They all shared a silent thought. Family.

We know they’re hiding something,” Morgan corrected. “We just don’t have the probable cause to kick the door down.”

Garcia watched as Morgan paced slightly, his tone firm but urgent.

“That’s thin, Morgan,” Your voice came through the speaker, steady and unyielding.

“We don’t have time for airtight,” Morgan countered.

Your jaw tightened. “You don’t have time for me to get laughed out of a judge’s office, either. Refusing a search isn’t a crime, and suspicion alone doesn’t cut it. I need more.” You understood where the suspicious came from, how are you supposed to help them if they had nothing?

There was a pause. A beat of silence. Then, another voice—one you hadn’t heard in over a year.

“99% of abducted children who are killed due within the first 24 hours” He cleared his throat, willing his voice to stay even. Spencer Reid. “75% within the first 3 hours, and what only law enforcement knows is Jessica Davis joined the 44% of children who are abducted and killed within the first hour. We’re already past the three-hour mark. If we don’t act now, statistically speaking—”

“The likelihood of recovery drops exponentially,” You sighed, already standing up, ignoring how his voice sounded. So different. So… clean.

Your gaze flicked to the clock. 8:06 p.m. Damn it.

You grabbed a blank warrant form from her drawer and reached for a pen. “Send me the address and everything else you have. Give me 20 minutes.”

Click. You didn’t have time for goodbyes.

Austin raised an eyebrow from his seat. “Guess you’re not going home anytime soon.”

You didn’t look up as you started writing. “I never was.”

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The courthouse was mostly deserted at this hour. The fluorescent lights hummed quietly, and the stillness of the evening was only interrupted by the sharp click of your heels on the polished floors followed by Austin’s boots toward the judge’s chambers.

“You sure you don’t want me to take this one? Sweet-talk her maybe?” he teased.

You shot him a look. “You think Judge Holloway is the type to be charmed? Plus, you’re a private investigator, not a lawyer.”  

“She’s not gonna like you showing up this late.”  

You didn’t miss a beat. “If she’s still up, she’ll make time for this.”  

Taking a steadying breath as you stopped in front of the door, you quickly ran through your notes, making sure you had every detail in order. Then, without hesitation, you pushed through the heavy wooden doors of Judge Evelyn Holloway’s chambers.  

Inside, the judge barely glanced up from her paperwork. “You have two minutes, Woodvale.”

Stepping forward, you set the warrant request on the desk. “Your Honor, I apologize for the late hour, but we have a child abduction case we’re working against the clock. A young girl, Katie Jacobs, was taken from a mall over three hours ago. We’ve obtained surveillance footage showing her walking with an individual—someone she likely knows. We believe the family is withholding information, and they’ve refused to allow us to search the residence.”

The judge narrowed his eyes, folding her hands on the desk. “And what do you propose I do about it? What evidence do you have to warrant a search?”

You kept your voice steady. “We have footage of the girl with someone who wasn’t a stranger, Your Honor. The parents are refusing cooperation, and the father was evasive when asked about possible affairs, which raises red flags about his involvement.”

Holloway sighed, leaning back in her chair. “That’s thin.” You were ready for that.

“I have the full footage from the mall security, including a timestamp showing the precise time the girl went missing. She is last seen walking calmly with someone she knows, most likely family.”

There was a brief pause, and for a second, you thought you were about to lose her. So you pulled Reid’s words from memory, adjusting them just enough to make them your own.

“Time is working against us. Statistics show that 99% of abducted children who are murdered lose their lives within the first 24 hours 75% within just the first three. And only law enforcement-”

She cut you off with a raised hand, signaling you to stop.

The judge exhaled through her nose, it was late and you were rambling about statistics and you knew she wanted you out as soon as possible when you started citing numbers. So pushing himself out of her chair with a slight groan. “Fine. Get me the paperwork. I’ll sign it—but you better have your ducks in a row.”

You nodded, her demeanor unflinching. “Thank you, Your Honor.”

As you turned to leave, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of the hours ahead of you. But you were used to this—fighting against the clock.

“Let’s move,” motioning to Austin. He gave you a small nod. “You got it.”

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Exactly 15 minutes after the call, 5 minutes earlier than promised, Morgan’s phone rang. He answered it without even looking. 

"You got your warrant. I'll meet you there," Alex’s voice came through, crisp and businesslike, just as expected.

Morgan exhaled, his relief barely hidden. "Thank you, Woody."

He paused for a moment before adding, "I owe you one," then hung up, turning to Reid.

“Tell Hotch we’re heading to the Jacobs’ house,” he instructed, already moving toward the door.

Spencer had been timing her. It wasn’t the first time he'd gotten caught up in the tense waiting game of law and order, but the pressure of it had a different weight today. The memory of your voice, clear and resolute, echoed in his mind, sharper than before.

For Reid, part of getting clean wasn't just the physical withdrawal—it was the emotional weight of confronting his mistakes. The memory of how he'd lashed out at you a year ago still haunted him. How could he have been so cruel? The hurt in your eyes, the way he dismissed you, the way it all spiraled… it wasn’t just the drugs that had made him say those things. And the fury he saw when you looked at him, Dialuid in hand, how you looked like a timing bomb when he was trying to see if he could talk to you, the tension in your shoulders, the lock in your jaw, the grip on the file. He’d been battling so much more since then, in his mind, you saved his life by doing what he couldn't do.

He’d rather die than relive that moment again, than say those things. And yet, here he was, standing in the middle of another chaotic case, still carrying that guilt with him. He stayed behind Morgan for just a beat before pushing down his feelings and moving quickly. 

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The engine of Austin's bike rumbled to a stop as they pulled up in front of the house, where Morgan and Reid were standing in front of the black SUV. You slid off the back with practiced ease, taking off the helmet and letting your hair fall loose.

Austin followed your lead, taking his helmet off with a groan. “So, what exactly are we looking for?”

You shot him a quick, sidelong glance, handing him the helmet, keeping your expression flat knowing he’s about to be a drama queen. “You’re not coming inside. The warrant’s for FBI and police only. Not P.I.s included”

Austin paused, a mock pout crossing his face. “Excuse me? I just got you here, through all that traffic, risking myself to get a speeding ticket and now I don’t get to search? This is the second time in the night that you P.I. shaming me. Do you hate me?”

“If I hated you I wouldn’t have bailed your ass out of jail… twice” you remark the last part. He had a talent for sticking his foot where he shouldn’t be, maybe that’s what makes him good at his job.

“You act like you wouldn’t do it a third time” he was mocking, but he was right, something you would never admit to him. 

You start walking to the house “Mhm.” you hum rolling your eyes, heading towards where Morgan and Reid were. 

You didn't expect him to be there, or maybe you did, maybe you wanted to see him and know what had happened to him since the last time you saw him. They were looking at you, Morgan with a curious already-profiling-you stare, while Reid expression was more… cautious. He looked so different, his cheekbones were prominent in an attractive way and not sickly, he had put on some healthy weight and was not fidgety. You were not mad anymore, because of course at the moment the hurt had turned into rage like it always does for you, but it was more because of phantoms than anything else. 

“Got your golden ticket” you said, avoiding Reid’s gaze as you pulled the warrant from the inner pocket of your gray coat and swung it toward them.

Morgan nodded “You staying?” He gestured with his head to Austin who was leaving.

“I have to make sure you find something, otherwise the judge will have my head for this,” you said dryly, shrugging as though the threat didn’t bother you, but there was a flicker of seriousness behind your words. You were only talking to him, which felt rude because Reid’s stare was locked in your profile. 

Reid was thinking how pretty you looked, how the black vest suited you, and he couldn’t ignore the fact you had changed your brown bag to a black one that looked nothing like his. Your white shirt and gray coat gave you an older, wiser look, but as Reid analyzed your features, he realized he didn’t even know how old you were. You couldn’t be older than him. Serious, sharp, and young... How was it possible for someone that young to be the A.D.A.?

Reid’s mind couldn’t let go of the numbers. The average age of an Assistant District Attorney in the U.S. is 36. You couldn’t be older than 25, and yet you were already in that position.

You glanced at him for a moment before stepping inside the house, feeling the weight of his stare. The look made him snap out of his trance-like state, and of course, his eidetic memory hated him, because for that brief second, he remembered how you had looked at him a year ago.

Morgan nodded and thanked you again before he and Reid walked into the house. You left the warrant on the hall table with a deliberate touch, your fingers lingering for just a moment—as if to remind yourself that you weren’t entirely done with this.

“Somebody lit a fire last night,” you heard Reid say.

“Well, there are dirty dishes for three in the kitchen, so they eat together as a family.” Morgan’s voice carried from the other room as they moved through the house, taking in the details.

If Katie was in danger, the signs wouldn’t be in plain sight. You had to look where they hid—where children kept their secrets. Their bedrooms.

“Hey, my favorite movie from when I was a kid.” Reid held up a DVD, turning it in his hands before pulling it from the player just as you passed by him, tugging on latex gloves before heading upstairs, you did feel a little guilty for not even looking or talking to him, but it was something you did unconsciously. 

“So they watch movies together, too,” Morgan mused. They were starting to build a picture of the family’s dynamic.

“By a fireplace in a house that’s straight out of a catalog,” Reid added. “Norman Rockwell couldn’t have painted this any cozier.”

“That’s what worries me.” There was weight in Morgan’s voice. A tension that sat between them.

Upstairs, you searched through the rooms with careful precision.

When you first became a lawyer, you made a promise—never ignore a sign. Since then, you have gone further. You didn’t just refuse to ignore them; you searched for them. Hollow eyes. Unexplained bruises. Small bloodstains. You looked for them in teenagers, in young adults, in the elderly. But nothing—nothing—was more painful than a child who couldn’t speak up.

Because they were small. Because someone older, someone stronger, was hurting them. There's nothing more hurtful than not being able to speak out, to say something and stand up for yourself. Except when someone did—someone saw the bruises, the fear, the signs—and they looked away deliberately. Because a child’s pain was inconvenient. Because it came with a mountain of paperwork no one wanted to touch.

You had spent your whole life making sure you never looked away.

That’s why you were hunched over the small desk in Katie’s bedroom, flipping through her drawings when Morgan and Reid entered the room. They started searching, their movements efficient and methodical.

“Katie’s been wetting her bed,” Reid said as he lifted the duvet, inspecting the mattress beneath it.

“A lot of six-year-olds do. Could be bad dreams,” Morgan replied, crouching beside you as he sifted through a pile of toys.

You considered that possibility—it was perfectly logical. In a perfect world.

“Some kids won’t get up at night because they’re afraid of the dark,” Reid added, his tone careful. Almost knowing.

“Or it could be a lot more complex than that.”

Morgan had found a doll. Not a Barbie missing a shoe or one that had simply been played with too much. No—this doll was different.

Its hair had been hacked off, jagged strands sticking out unevenly. Red marker smeared across its face like smeared blood. Its clothes were yanked askew, twisted, and wrong.

“Most girls covet their dolls like an extension of themselves.” He took the doll in his hands like it was made of fine glass. 

“Reid, I know these signs-— acting out on her toys, wetting the bed. She's obviously covering up something about that necklace.”

“And her cousin might be holding something back.”

“Well, this looks more like a man than a boy to me,” you said, holding up a drawing of a tall, shadowy figure towering over a small, crying child.

Morgan took it from your hands, his expression hardening as he analyzed the image.

“Psychology says drawing is a child’s way of channeling their inner world. Look at the strokes—how harsh they are,” you pointed to the dark, jagged lines forming the tall figure, then traced your finger over the smaller one. “And this looks like Katie to me. She forgot to draw the hands, which means she feels powerless… helpless.” 

Morgan took his phone out, dialing up “Hotch, we think Katie’s being molested,” Morgan said, his voice clipped. “And we both know the odds.”

A brief silence. Then Hotch’s response, firm and certain. “Most likely by someone under the same roof.”

He hung up, and both men started toward the door, their movements brisk with purpose. But you stayed behind for a moment, rooted in place, taking in the scene. Trying to quiet the distant sirens that echoed in your mind, the same ones always shouting when you were face to face with these situations. A loud pause—maybe out of respect for Katie and her pain, for everything she had been forced to endure.

From the doorway, Spencer glanced back. The dim light from the hallway cast your figure in stark contrast, outlining you in shadow—your form dark against the soft glow of the room. He couldn’t see your expression, couldn’t read your face. He focused on the way your hands curled into fists at your sides, the tight set of your shoulders.

And he wished—just for a second—that he could see more.

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You stood outside, leaning against the wall, arms crossed tightly over your chest. By your side were Morgan, Jeremy, Katie’s cousin, and Reid.

Turns out, Katie’s uncle, Richard, was her abuser. A disgusting son of a bitch who deserved to rot in hell. And you were going to make sure he did. He had destroyed Katie’s childhood, probably more than just hers, shattering an entire family in the process. His own son, standing right next to you, was collateral damage he clearly hadn’t spared a thought for. And then there was his wife. The woman who had chosen to look away. Who had taken Katie and nearly gotten her killed, all for the pathetic, desperate hope that it would somehow stop her husband from creeping into little bedrooms at night. She deserved the same hell he did.

A stretcher rolled past, Katie’s small frame barely visible beneath the blankets as the paramedics guided her into the ambulance. Her mother clutched her tiny hand, whispering something—words meant to soothe, to promise safety.

A young voice cut through the air. “I heard her call my mom’s name. That’s what I remembered before.”

You closed your eyes, your mind already racing ahead. Your attorney brain was piecing it together, sketching out the battle that was coming. If the kid had heard it, that made him a witness to the abduction. His own mother had committed the crime against her niece. And God only knew what else he had seen—what else had been happening in that house—without fully understanding it.

“We get it, kid. That’s your mom,” Morgan said, his voice steady. But you knew the truth: if Jeremy could barely say those words to them, getting him to the stand in front of a jury would be another fight entirely.

The boy shifted on his feet, staring at the ambulance. “What’s gonna happen to me now?”

If God existed, He had already been too cruel. He had let all of this happen. And you knew how these things worked—knew there was a very real chance that Katie’s parents, burdened with their own grief, would resent Jeremy by association. That they wouldn’t take him in. That he would be swallowed by the foster system.

You wouldn’t let that happen.

The sirens blared outside the mall, cutting through the air with urgency, but it was the ones inside your mind that were louder—screaming in the same rhythm, as if they were one and the same. Distant and deafening, they filled every corner of your head, drowning out everything but the grim reality unfolding before you.

“I don’t know, Jeremy,” Reid answered, his voice gentle. “But we’re gonna make sure you’re alright, okay?”

Jeremy didn’t look at him. His eyes stayed fixed on the ambulance. “Is Katie gonna be all right?”

You wished—desperately, violently—that you could tell him yes. That you could say it with certainty and make it true. But how could you give him something you didn’t have?

“She will, eventually,” Morgan said, his voice firm.

You exhaled sharply. The words made your skin crawl.

“Is she?” The question slipped from your lips before you could stop it—low, bitter, nearly spat out under your breath. Just quiet enough that the kid wouldn’t hear. Just loud enough that Morgan did.

Before he could respond, you were already moving.

Your feet carried you toward the police car, toward the sick, selfish bastard they were shoving into the backseat. Your hand shot out, slamming the door closed—harder than necessary, just enough that it cracked against Richard’s face.

Morgan watched. So did Spencer.

And for the first time, he realized just how much of a puzzle you really were.

Partially because, throughout all of this, you hadn’t looked at him once. Not when he entered the room, not when he spoke, not even now, standing just a few feet away.

Partially because your eyes, when he finally caught a glimpse of them, were full of something he rarely saw outside of a case like this. Pure, undiluted rage.

Not just anger. Not just frustration. Something deeper. Something personal.

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part III　 Feedback feeds motivation! Likes, reblogs and comments are all appreciated <3

[cuephrase]

Most Disliked Robin Results!!

at long last, (some of) the data you've all been waiting for.

for those of you who are new, i put out a questionnaire to gather data in the interest of discovering if my personal hypothesis that knowing someone's #1 Robin tells you nothing really, but knowing their top two, now that gives you insight. i have since closed that questionnaire, and we are in the data crunching stage. in this anon ask, anon was curious which Robin was getting the most dislike votes. i shared the current numbers w/o revealing who was getting which votes, and invited y'all to vote for which Robin you thought was getting the most dislike votes.

these were the results of the prediction poll:

before i share the final results, with 745 responses, a disclaimer:

the data pool is extremely small in the grand scheme of things!! this data cannot be used to make definitive claims about fandom at large. this is simply what we observed from the small group of fans, predominantly from tumblr, who filled out my questionnaire. cool? cool.

for our purposes, a "Stan" is someone who marked X Robin as their #1 fave Robin, and a "Fan" is someone who marked X Robin in their top two. additionally, whenever you see a top two Duo, for example, Dick & Damian, the character mentioned first is that person's #1. so Dick & Damian duos are distinct from Damian & Dick duos!!

for the non-math nerds, the 95% CI*, or 95% Confidence Interval is there to show that if we were to poll a random 745 responders again, from the same communities, we're about 95% sure the true value is somewhere in here range. *this is a bit of a simplification, but uh, i am not a math teacher + google is free. (i thought about finding a snappy youtube vid but as soon as they started talking math i zoned out whoops.)

finally a big, big thank you to @chinajousama and @tevyaa for their data-crunching + formatting!! none of this would have happened nearly as quickly (or successfully) without them!! 🫶

overall dislike

raw count

converted to percentages with 95% CI

the most important takeaway here, imo, is that ~74% do not dislike any Robin. (shoutout to the Jason & Steph Duo who disliked Dick, Tim, and Damian tho, iconic.)

also, it is not at all what tumblr predicted!! tumblr predicted that dick would be least disliked (by virtue of him getting the least votes) and that's...about all that was correct from the prediction poll.

now how does this breakdown depending on Stans/Fans/Duos?

Stans' dislike (Y is responders #1 Robin)

raw count

converted to percentages with 95% CI

"hey!!" you say, "the math is not mathing- if i add up the bottom row i get 774/104%, not 745/100%." correct!! this is because responders were able to dislike more than one Robin.

if we gave the percentages for each row of the very first chart, (the one that lays out how people voted in all the permutations), those percents would add up to 100%. but since we're only breaking it down between the Robins, there's overlap. 14.8% of everyone disliked Tim, that number is true. however, that 14.8% of Tim Dislikers includes people who also disliked other Robins- it's not the percentage of people who exclusively dislike Tim.

tl;dr: it doesn't add up, but the math is right, trust.

"okay, fine, but why don't you have a 95% CI for everyone?" if the sample group was too small to make a prediction (received less than 5 responses), we decided not to give one because there's simply not enough data to give one worth having. tl;dr, if there's a 0.00%* in the 95% CI chart, don't read into those stats too hard!!

Fans' dislike (Y is in responder's top duo)

raw count

converted to percentages with 95% CI

already you can see some differences compared to the Stans' Dislikes- most percentages go up a bit, but a few go down.

now let's see what happens when we look at the breakdown over Duo's Dislike

Duo's dislike

raw count

converted to percentages with 95% CI

note the differences!! for instance, all Jason-first Duos are more likely to dislike Tim than the percentage given for Jason Stans, except for Jason & Tim duos, which duh, but also, Jason & Tim is the second most common Jason-first Duo, making up 25.3% of Jason-first Duos.

also!! Tim fans are the least likely to dislike overall, with 83.2% not disliking any Robin, however, Tim stans, specifically Tim & Dick Duos are the most likely to dislike Damian. (*cough* lingering Red Robin grudge, perhaps? *cough* Tim Stans: i can let a lot of shit go, but that. that i cannot. [i'm a Tim Stan, i'm allowed to tease them, okay?])

another crucial thing to point out here is that the percentages represent how likely Y Duo is to dislike X Robin. this distinction is significant because while it is correct to say that, (based off this data pool), Steph & Damian Duos are the most likely to dislike Tim, it is incorrect to say that most Tim dislikers are Steph & Damian Duos.

"huh??"

something, something squares and rectangles If you grab a random Steph & Damian Duo responder, they are the most likely out of all the Duo responders to dislike Tim. However, if you were to grab a random Tim Disliker responder, the odds of that responder being a Steph & Damian Duo are pretty low.

by number, Dick & Damian Duos make up the biggest portion of Tim Dislikers (26 out of 110 votes). however, they also make up the biggest portion of responders overall with 92 votes, whereas Steph & Damian only got 22.

(side note, if you're like, whoa but Dick & Jason won the tumblr poll- overall, there were more responders that had Dick and Jason in their top 2, however they were split 82/64 and Dick and Damian was split 92/29. those splits are also super interesting to see, bc some are pretty even and others aren't.)

okay, so what's the takeaway here? repeat after me: everybody 👏hates 👏 Tim!! 👏 loud incorrect buzzer yeah, no so the main takeaway here is that so far, it's looking like there is visible variation depending on a Stan/Fan's Duo compared to Stan/Fan opinion. also, that most Robin fans don't dislike a Robin. you can relax, odds are blorbo is not under attack. unless you're a Tim stan. jk jk, i'm sorry, him having 14.8% dislikability is just hysterical to me, like do you see the social distancing, Jason is the second most disliked and Tim has more than double his numbers LMAO.

especially bc that 14.8% is just like, out of all responders, how likely Tim is to be disliked, right, follow me here, hehe. 110 of 223 dislike votes cast were for Tim, right, so of the dislike votes cast there is a ~49.3% chance that a dislike vote is a dislike Tim vote.

but!! if we condense that 223 (dislike votes cast/remember that 1 responder could dislike multiple) to 194 (the actual number of responders who disliked), then it's 110 out of 194, so if a Robin fan dislikes anyone, there is a ~56.7% that they dislike Tim.

try not to laugh at that, i dare you.

now, as a Tim stan, i think this makes sense because out of all the Robins, Tim has the most on panel interaction with every other Robin compared to the others, so like, if any Robin is going to show up and annoy you, odds are it's Timbo. factor in fanfic trends and uh...look, do i love Tim? yes. (i love them all, but that's beside the point.) do i think he's annoying af. also yes. it's part of the appeal, i mean hot people get it, i mean this data is not shocking to me but it is, clearly, deeply amusing. that being said, you might be under attack, because responders were wayyyy more likely to find a Robin Stan annoying than they were to dislike a Robin hehehe. sorry, sorry, i swear i'm not trying to shart shit. i mean, start shit. that was an honest typo but i'm so tired rn and it's funny so i'm leaving it, forgive me. what are your thoughts? any of this surprising to you, or does it track with your predictions? tysm for participating if you responded to the questionnaire!! and if you didn't, no worries, enjoy the Findings. please remember that the goal of this questionnaire/sharing the Findings is not to grade other fans on whether they're "good"/"bad"- discuss to your heart's content but let's try and keep the wank/bad faith takes to a minimum, yeah? thank youuuuu

also enjoy this at a glance graph!! the bars are error bars, they represent that 95% CI :)

anyways!! i just threw a ton of data at you, if there's anything you would like to see me elaborate on/any questions you have, please feel free to send me an ask and we'll do our best to deliver!! there's truly so much to unpack here.

[onlydylanobrien]

"Twinless" Release Date

Dylan O'Brien’s upcoming movie “Twinless” directed by James Sweeney will be released in theaters on September 5, 2025.

Storyline: Two young men meet in a twin bereavement support group and form an unlikely bromance. Starring: James Sweeney, Lauren Graham, Cree, Aisling Franciosi, Chris Perfetti and more

Dylan O’Brien and James Sweeney’s Sundance Comedy ‘Twinless’ Finalizes Sale, Sets Fall Release Date (EXCLUSIVE)

By Rebecca Rubin

“Twinless” has finalized a sale to Roadside Attractions and Lionsgate. The twisted comedic drama, which premiered at Sundance Film Festival, will land in theaters on Sept. 5.

Roadside will release the film in the U.S. while Sony Pictures Worldwide Acquisitions will distribute internationally.

Dylan O’Brien and James Sweeney star in “Twinless,” which follows two friends who meet in a twin bereavement support group and form an unlikely bond. At Sundance, “Twinless” won the audience award and O’Brien was recognized for best performance for his leading dual role as twin brothers.

Sweeney wrote, directed and produced the movie, which co-stars Aisling Franciosi, Lauren Graham, Tasha Smith, Chris Perfetti, François Arnaud, Susan Park and Cree Cicchino.

“I’m delighted to pair up with Roadside and Lionsgate to bring our film into theaters nationwide,” said Sweeney. “I’m holding ample space for ‘Twinless’ and look forward to overthinking future press quotes.”

Roadside Attractions co-presidents Eric d’Arbeloff and Howard Cohen called “Twinless” a “genuine comedic crowd pleaser and sophisticated examination of male friendship in the internet age.”

“Dylan O’Brien’s performance in a dual role is nothing less than a star-defining turn and multi-hyphenate Sweeney declares himself a generational talent both in front of and behind the camera,” d’Arbeloff and Cohen said. “We are confident the film will connect with theatrical audiences nationwide as strongly as it did at Sundance.”

Producer David Permut adds, “The sharp comedy depicts complex characters in such an irreverent, emotional and hysterical way. The chemistry between Dylan and James is absolutely combustible and it’s a film that is best seen in a theater. I know we have found the right home at Roadside Attractions.”

O’Brien and Miky Lee were executive producers, alongside Ali Jazayeri, David Gendron, and Liz Destro. Alex Astrachan at Permut Presentations serves as co-producer. Three Point Capital financed the feature.

The deal was negotiated by Charlotte Koh on behalf of Lionsgate and Roadside Attractions. Sejin Croninger negotiated for Republic Pictures.

Source: variety.com

[beachlifelez]

Four wives away for the weekend, purportedly off to further investigate the city in which their latest book club selection was set. Sure, they did some of that, to bring home details if asked by their husbands.

Primarily, though, this was a “let your hair down” weekend for Liz, Celia, Brooke and Allison. And it was Allison’s first trip with the other three, so she was in for some special treatment.

Soon she would be lying on the bed on her back. Liz would be busily at work between Allison’s legs, Celia and Brooke would be lying next to her, taking turns kissing her while massaging and licking and sucking her boobs.

After Liz expertly brought Allison off with her tongue, the ladies would embrace Allison and officially welcome her to their little group. And then on to many different combinations and permutations of female group love.

Oh, yes, and they began planning their next book club trip together, wondering if club member Lucy might be a willing travel mate.

[talonabraxas]

"I will be what I will to be." - Exodus 3:14

An Enochian Greater Ritual of the Heptagram

Here's a chance to engage in some cutting-edge magical research. Over the years my magical working group has done some work with John Dee and Edward Kelley's Enochian system. In one of those operations we received names in the Angelic language for the five classical planets that are not named in Dee and Kelley's Calls. The two that are named are the Sun (ROR) and the Moon (GRAA). I did the scrying for this session, and while I am not normally all that great a scryer this particular operation seemed to go smoothly. When I asked the spirit for the names of the planets I was immediately struck by the image that the first letter of each planet's name corresponded with the sound of the appropriate Hebrew letter according to the Golden Dawn arrangement. Prior to that, I had never noticed that ROR begins with the same sound as Resh, the Hebrew letter corresponding to the Sun, and that GRAA begins with the same sound as Gimel, the letter corresponding to the Moon.

Here are all seven classical planet names, including the five that we received.

1. Venus - DMUZ 2. Sun - ROR 3. Mars - PAROTH 4. Jupiter - KYLMA 5. Mercury - BANRO 6. Saturn - TUR 7. Moon - GRAA

Knowing these names makes it possible to construct a ritual akin to the Golden Dawn Greater Ritual of the Hexagram for the Enochian system. Rather than using the figure of the hexagram, the figure of the heptagram seems more appropriate to Enochian work given the significance of the number seven throughout the system. The seven Ensigns of Creation, one for each planet, are place on the Holy Table in the shape of a heptagram. For the purposes of this ritual, I have associated the seven planets with the points of the heptagram in the order of the seven Ensigns. This is the order in which the names appear on the list above, beginning with the top point of the heptagram and moving clockwise. As with the Golden Dawn Greater Ritual of the Hexagram, to invoke a planet you start at the appropriate point and trace clockwise, while to banish a planet you trace counter-clockwise instead.

Since this ritual follows the Golden Dawn structure, the last word that is required is some Angelic equivalent of ARARITA. This is a Notariquon or acronym for "One is his beginning; one is his individuality; his permutation is one” and in addition is a formula of seven letters, also alluding to the planets. As it turns out, the Calls contain a pretty good match: GE-IAD-I-L, meaning "Our Lord and Master is All One." Not only is the meaning very similar, it also consists of seven Angelic letters. I pronounce this phrase in the Calls as geh-ee-AHD EE LAH, though it could also be run together as geh-ee-ahd-EEL, which has four syllables like ARARITA. I plan on starting my testing of the ritual using the standard pronunciation, since in some ways five syllables is really more appropriate than four. As I see it, this ritual conjoins the planetary and elemental spheres, and five represents the pentagram, whereas four represents the cross of the elements and could be said to exclude Spirit.

For visualization of lineal figures, I use the Golden Dawn flashing color method. I visualize the lineal figure itself in the color associated with the planet and then visualize the figure in the center appearing in its compliment. This helps to make the visualization more intense and is also easy to practice - just build the figures you will be tracing out of construction paper or paint them onto a piece of paper in the proper colors and meditate on them. The contrast makes for a strong and lasting memory impression.

The proper colors depend on whether you are working along active or receptive lines. The Golden Dawn system actually has four color scales attributed to the four Qabalistic worlds, called the King, Queen, Prince, and Princess scales. The four worlds correspond to the four letters of YHVH and represnt the realms through which potentiality manifests as physical reality. For normal use, you should only need the King and Queen scales. The former is used when working active magick, whereas the latter is used when working receptive magick. In terms of the Tree of Life, paths correspond to the King scale whereas spheres correspond to the Queen scale. The paths represent magical powers of various sorts, whereas the spheres represent mystical realizations. You can consult column XLV: Magical Powers [Western Mysticism] of Liber 777 for a complete list.

The colors for the planets are as follows:

Venus - King scale emerald green, compliment scarlet. Queen scale green, compliment red. Sun - King scale orange, compliment blue. Queen scale yellow, compliment purple. Mars - King scale scarlet, compliment emerald green. Queen scale red, compliment green. Jupiter - King scale violet, compliment yellow. Queen scale blue, compliment orange. Mercury - King scale yellow, compliment purple. Queen scale orange, compliment blue. Saturn - King scale indigo, compliment pale yellow. Queen scale black, compliment white. Moon - King scale blue, compliment orange. Queen scale violet, compliment yellow.

So this gives the basic structure of the ritual. The heptagrams are traced to the four quarters just like Golden Dawn hexagrams - you start at the point with which you are working and trace clockwise to invoke and counter-clockwise to banish. You start in the east and trace the appropriate heptagram to each direction moving clockwise. The heptagram should be traced with a single point up, just like the Ensigns are arranged on the Holy Table. You vibrate GE-IAD-I-L when tracing the figure in the color of the planet and vibrate the planet name while tracing the astrological symbol of the planet in the center in the flashing color.

This ritual has not been tested yet, but my hypothesis is that it should make Enochian planetary workings more effective. This is because it uses the Angelic language and not the "intermediary" language of Hebrew. It is not that Hebrew works poorly with the Enochian system - actually in my experience it is the only language besides Angelic itself that works well and it is found in John Dee's diaries. Notably, Dee and Edward Kelly contacted the traditional four Archangels and addressed them by their Hebrew names. As with any magical working posted to this site, I invite you to try it out and post your results. This ritual should follow the Golden Dawn "Lesser" rituals of the Pentagram and Hexagram or their equivalent.

[jingerpi]

"In DeGraffenreid, five Black women brought suit against General Motors, alleging that the employer's seniority system perpetuated the effects of past discrimination against Black women. Evidence adduced at trial revealed that General Motors simply did not hire Black women prior to 1964 and that all of the Black women hired after 1970 lost their jobs in a seniority-based layoff during a subsequent recession. The district court granted summary judgment for the defendant, rejecting the plaintiffs' attempt to bring a suit not on behalf of Blacks or women, but specifically on behalf of Black women. The court stated:

Plaintiffs have failed to cite any decisions which have stated that Black women are a special class to be protected from discrimination. The Court's own research has failed to disclose such a decision. The plaintiffs are clearly entitled to a remedy if they have been discriminated against. However, they should not be allowed to combine statutory remedies to create a new 'super-remedy' which would give them relief beyond what the drafters of the relevant statutes intended. Thus, this lawsuit must be examined to see if it states a cause of action for race discrimination, sex discrimination, or alternatively either, but not a combination of both.'

Although General Motors did not hire Black women prior to 1964, the court noted that "General Motors has hired … female employees for a number of years prior to the enactment of the Civil Rights Act of 1964." Because General Motors did hire women-albeit white women-during the period that no Black women were hired, there was, in the court's view, no sex discrimination that the seniority system could conceivably have perpetuated.

After refusing to consider the plaintiffs' sex discrimination claim, the court dismissed the race discrimination complaint and recommended its consolidation with another case alleging race discrimination against the same employer. The plaintiffs responded that such consolidation would defeat the purpose of their suit since theirs was not purely a race claim, but an action brought specifically on behalf of Black women alleging race and sex discrimination. The court, however, reasoned:

The legislative history surrounding Title VII does not indicate that the goal of the statute was to create a new classification of 'black women' who would have greater standing than, for example, a black male. The prospect of the creation of new classes of protected minorities, governed only by the mathematical principles of permutation and combination, clearly raises the prospect of opening the hackneyed Pandora's box."

Thus, the court apparently concluded that Congress either did not contemplate that Black women could be discriminated against as "Black women" or did not intend to protect them when such discrimination occurred." The court's refusal in DeGraffenreid to acknowledge that Black women encounter combined race and sex discrimination implies that the boundaries of sex and race discrimination doctrine are defined respectively by white women's and Black men's experiences. Under this view, Black women are protected only to the extent that their experiences coincide with those of either of the two groups. Where their experiences are distinct, Black women can expect little protection as long as approaches, such as that in DeGraffenreid, which completely obscure problems of intersectionality prevail." - Crenshaw, Demarginalizing the Intersection of Race and Sex

[valyrfia]

oh this weekend really delivered with the rpf because wdym we got lestappen podium, versainz reunited, charlos toxic 1-2, norstappen rancidity, landoscar angst, carcar defending each other and more like the implications within these 5 people makes me sweat aaaaaaaah

The RPF implications of this weekend alone could power the Formula 1 RPF tag on ao3 for up to a year.

(The circle of RPF between Charles/Max/Oscar/Lando/Carlos is also insane objectively like how is almost EVERY permutation of this grouping a popular ship…. )

[jjkbambi]

ya i think you’re right about lacking a bit of game lol, he definitely just exudes natural charm of course but his talking game prob needed some work haha. but also guys we need to remember he went to an all-boys private school for years so he probably didn’t get much practice during that time lol which speaks a bit to those awkward convos with girls. buttt! he seemed to be a really sweet friend! also, side-tangent, but i can imagine him saying some like obscure fact to a girl, trying to hit up a conversation and maybe it doesn’t have the desired effect and he ends up like overthinking the conversation like 5 hours after it’s over and going through the permutations of what probably would have been better to say haha like a true cs major with anxiety

i don’t think he realizes what he’s saying sometimes. definitely a bit hard-headed in his beliefs, doesn’t realize when he’s wrong until you point it out, very willing to argue.

example: in japan, he was walked into a restaurant alone and a group of men invited him to dinner, they got to know each other and followed each other on twitter.

a month later, mangione was characterizing japan as devoid of free will and suggesting solutions to address its birth rate crisis. like woah? so unhinged. and just kinda mean. imagine being one of those guys he befriended at the dinner, finding out he thinks you’re a freak who doesn’t know how to talk to girls ???

[farore05]

Group Project

(Hugo & Ivy crossover fic)

I love getting to work with you on this @themournfulwatcher 😍

The lunch hall of the Grand Necropolis echoed with the clatter of cutlery and conversation. Ivy balanced her tray in one hand and her necromancy textbook in the other, scanning for an empty seat and trying not to scowl.

The assignment had been a disaster.

She’d looked forward to it, really looked forward to it. A demonstration of rune-binding theory. Her chance to shine, to prove she wasn’t just another face in the Mourn Watch’s sea of robes. Maybe even earn a passing nod from Professor Volkarin. Or more.

As she sat down at an empty table next to a window she imagined it… Professor Volkarin leaning over her shoulder, his voice soft and warm as he traced a finger along her parchment, pointing out the parts she’d executed well. The parts she could improve. She’d look up at him, eyes wide, voice soft…

“Could you show me, Professor?” She’d bite her lip, flutter her eyelashes. And then…

Ivy caught herself, blinked hard, willing the blush down. Maker’s breath, she was spiraling again. She picked up her fork with a sigh, it didn’t even matter. None of it did because the assignment wasn’t solo. Professor Volkarin had insisted on partners.

And of course, the moment he said it, the rest of the students had snapped together like bones in a well-repaired skeleton. She panicked, trying to keep her voice steady as she asked one classmate after another but everyone was already paired. Already gone.

There was just one person left…. Hugo.

Of course it had to be him. Top of the class. Perfect posture. Perfect handwriting. Perfect face.

She stabbed her bread, imagining it was his stupidly symmetrical nose.

At the far end of the hall Ivy watched Hugo and Professor Volkarin walking side by side, the two of them cloaked in joyful conversation.

Professor Volkarin gave Hugo a brief, approving nod, his hand resting lightly on his shoulder. “If you continue at this pace, I’ll have no choice but to retire early and leave the lectern to you.”

Hugo ducked his head, color rising in his cheeks. “Hardly. I’m fortunate to have a capable mentor.”

Ivy’s stomach twisted. That blush should’ve been illegal. When the professor stepped away, Hugo’s smile vanished, replaced by something colder, sharper. He turned and caught her gaze before walking over.

“Room for one more?” he asked, already setting his tray down.

She glared.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Hugo prepared for everything.

He memorized lecture notes, rewrote sigils in seven different permutations, practiced incantations until his fingers cramped. He’d even drafted potential responses for the rare, impossible chance a professor might comment on his work.

But not this.

Not the warmth of Professor Volkarin’s laughter. Not the ease of walking beside him like a peer. Certainly not the gentle pressure of his ringed hand against his back.

“If you continue at this pace,” Professor Volkarin said, voice laced with kindness and admiration, “I’ll have no choice but to retire early and leave the lectern to you.”

Hugo’s breath caught. His normally sharp thoughts scattered like loose parchment in the wind.

Outwardly, his voice remained composed. “Hardly. I’m fortunate to have a capable mentor.” But the warmth rising to his cheeks gave him away. He kept his gaze fixed on the floor, silently willing his pulse to steady.

Professor Volkarin lingered for a moment longer. “Keep up the wonderful work, my boy,” he said with a polite smile, then turned away toward the faculty wing.

Hugo stood still.

His heart was hammering, and he hated that it was. This wasn’t a rune to decode or a problem to solve, this was feeling, and he didn’t know what to do with it.

… He should’ve prepared better.

Hugo turned toward the tables and there sat the black haired girl who still didn’t have a partner like him. Maker he always forgot her name… Iris? Sable? Whoever she was she was scowling at her bread like it had personally offended her. She looked up and their eyes met.

[charl0ttan]

group permutation starts in fifteen minutes